Читать книгу An Amish Reunion - Jo Ann Brown - Страница 12

Chapter Two

As soon as the words agreeing to the plan with Daniel left her lips, Hannah wanted to take them back. But how could she turn aside his help? Looking at the little girl perched on Daniel’s knee while he sat on the edge of the tub, Hannah knew she needed his assistance. Her great-grandmother might want to help, but the elderly woman was fragile. Grossmammi Ella couldn’t chase an active toddler. Though nothing had ever been said, Hannah often wondered if her grossmammi resented having a ten-year-old dumped on her to raise.

“Gut,” Daniel said as he shifted Shelby into his arms as he stood.

He avoided Hannah’s eyes, and she couldn’t meet his either. Suddenly the bathroom seemed as small as a phone shack.

It seemed to shrink farther when he went on, “I’m glad you’re willing to be sensible about this, Hannah. After all, what happened in the past is best left there.”

“I agree.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but she wanted to put an end to this strained conversation. She couldn’t imagine how their “deal” would work. Daniel might be able to leave the past in the past, but she wasn’t sure she could. A heated aura of humiliation surrounded her whenever she thought of how he’d dumped her without an explanation.

Shelby chirped and tugged at his hair, interrupting Hannah’s bleak thoughts. A kind depended on her. For that reason—and to protect a hive of what she hoped were healthy honeybees—she would work with Daniel. She wouldn’t trust him. She’d learned her lesson.

Hearing a soft chime from the timer on the kitchen stove, Hannah gathered the wet towel and washcloth. She tossed them in the tub and ignored Daniel’s surprise when she left them there.

“Do you have something in the oven?” he asked.

“No. My great-grandmother sets the timer every afternoon before going to rest in her room. About fifteen minutes after it chimes, she’ll come out. I try to have a cup of tea ready for her.

“I should get going then.”

“But the bees—”

He pointed toward the window where water ran down the glass. “Let’s put that off until the rain stops. We can go tomorrow morning.”

“That makes sense.” At least one thing had today. Everything else, from Daniel’s appearance at her door to the idea her daed might have been there moments before, had been bizarre and painful. Why hadn’t Daed knocked on the door?

A fresh wave of grief struck her as hard as the rain battered the window. Had Daed thought she wouldn’t want to see him? Or did he think Grossmammi Ella would refuse to let him in? Hannah would have talked with him on the porch. She wouldn’t have been able to hug him while he was under the bann, but she would have welcomed him home and asked him why he’d left her behind. Why hadn’t he come home? And, when he did, why did he leave Shelby without letting Hannah know he was there?

“If you need anything before I come back,” Daniel said, “let me know.”

She frowned. “How? I can’t leave a toddler and my great-grandmother here alone.”

“My brother has a phone in the barn. I’ll give you the number.”

“Danki.” She regretted snapping at him. She couldn’t let dismay with her daed color her conversations with others. Maybe Daniel was right. Leaving the past in the past was a gut idea. “Our Englisch neighbors let me use their phone when it’s necessary. We should be okay. There are plenty of diapers and clothing in the bag for tonight.”

“Gut.” He left the bathroom.

Suddenly there seemed to be enough oxygen to take a breath, and Hannah sucked in a quick one. She needed to get herself on an even keel if Daniel was visiting for the next few days. How long would it take to learn how to take care of Shelby? Not that long, she was sure.

Her certainty wavered when Daniel paused in the living room and held out Shelby to her. Smiling and cooing at the kind, Hannah took her.

The room erupted into chaos when the toddler shrieked at the top of her lungs and reached out toward him, her body stiff with the indignity of being handed off to Hannah.

“Go!” Hannah ordered.

“Are you sure?” Daniel asked.

“Ja.” Stretching out his leaving would just upset everyone more.

Shelby’s crying became heartbreaking as Daniel slipped out and closed the door behind him. She squirmed so hard, Hannah put her down.

Teetering as if the floor rocked beneath her, Shelby rushed to the door. She stretched her hand toward the knob, but couldn’t reach it. Leaning her face against the door, she sobbed.

Hannah was tempted to join her in tears. The sight of the distraught kind shattered her heart. When she took a step forward, wanting to comfort Shelby, the toddler’s crying rose in pitch like a fire siren. Hannah jumped back, unsure what to do. She silenced the longing to call after Daniel and ask him to calm the kind. As soon as he left once more, Shelby might react like this all over again.

Hating to leave the little girl by the door, Hannah edged toward the kitchen. She kept her eyes on Shelby while setting the kettle on the stove to heat. The kind didn’t move an inch while Hannah took out the tea and a cup for her great-grandmother. Nor when Hannah set a handful of cookies on a plate and poured a small amount of milk into a glass.

The first thing to put on her list of what she’d need for the kind: plastic cups. Maybe she could find some with tops so Shelby could drink without spilling. Or was Hannah getting ahead of herself? She didn’t know if the little girl could drink from a cup.

The door to the downstairs bedroom opened. Her great-grandmother, Ella Lambright, leaned one hand on the door frame. She’d left her cane in the bedroom. Her steps were as unsteady as Shelby’s. Unlike the kind, her face was lined from many summers of working in her garden. She wore a black dress, stockings and shoes as she had every day since her husband died two years before Hannah’s parents had wed.

Hannah rushed to assist her great-grandmother to the kitchen table. The old woman took a single step, then paused as another wail came from beside the front door.

“Who is that?” Grossmammi Ella said in her wispy voice. The strings on her kapp struck Hannah’s cheek as she turned her head to look at the sobbing toddler. The elderly woman’s white hair was as thin and crisp as the organdy of her kapp. She actually was Hannah’s daed’s grossmammi.

“Her name is Shelby.”

“That isn’t a plain name.” Her snowy brows dropped into a scowl. “And she isn’t wearing plain clothes. What is an Englisch kind doing here?”

“Sit, and I’ll explain.”

“Who was that I saw driving away? What did he want here?”

“One thing at a time.” Hannah had grown accustomed to Grossmammi Ella’s impatience. In many ways, her great-grandmother’s mind had regressed to the level of a toddler’s. Impatient, jumping from one subject to another and with no apparent connection of one thought to the next, focused on her own needs. “That’s what a wise woman told me.”

“Foolish woman, if you ask me,” Grossmammi Ella muttered.

Hannah assisted her great-grandmother to sit. Now wasn’t the time to mention the wise woman had been Grossmammi Ella. Saying that might start an argument because the old woman could be quarrelsome when she felt frustrated, which was often lately.

Hoping she wouldn’t make matters worse, Hannah went to Shelby. She knelt, but didn’t reach out to the toddler. “Shelby?” she whispered.

The little girl turned toward her, her earth-brown eyes like Hannah’s. Heated trails of tears curved along her full cheeks, and her nose was as red as the skin around her eyes. Averting her face, the kind began to suck her thumb while she clung to the door.

Hannah waited, not saying anything. When Shelby’s eyes grew heavy, the toddler slid to sit and lean her face against the door. The poor little girl was exhausted. Hannah wondered when the kind had last slept.

When Shelby’s breathing grew slow, Hannah slipped her arms around the toddler. Shelby stiffened, but didn’t waken as Hannah placed her on the sofa. Getting a small quilt, Hannah draped it over the little girl.

Straightening, Hannah went to sit beside her great-grandmother. Patting Grossmammi Ella’s fragile arm, she began to explain what had happened while the old woman was resting. The story sounded unbelievable, but its proof slept on the sofa.

When her great-grandmother asked what Hannah intended to do now, Hannah said, “I don’t know.”

And she didn’t. She hoped God would send her ideas of how to deal with the arrival of an unknown sister, because she had none.

* * *

Reuben Lapp’s place wasn’t on Daniel’s way home to the farm where he’d lived his whole life, but he turned his buggy left where he usually turned right and followed the road toward where the sun was setting through the bank of clouds clinging to the hills. It was growing chilly, a reminder winter hadn’t left. At least, the rain hadn’t turned to sleet or snow.

He’d promised Hannah that he’d help her find out where her daed was. Hannah had been willing—albeit reluctantly—for him to speak with Reuben and get the bishop’s advice.

Why didn’t she want to use every method possible to find her daed? Daniel was sure she was as curious as he was about why Shelby had been left on the porch. Yet, she’d hesitated when he mentioned locating her daed.

Why?

You could have asked her. His conscience refused to let him ignore the obvious, but he had to admit that Hannah had her hands full when he left. As he closed the Lambrights’ door, he’d heard Shelby begin to cry in earnest. He’d almost gone back in, stopping himself because he wanted to get the search for her daed started as soon as possible.

Propane lamps were lit in the bishop’s large white house when Daniel arrived. He drove past the house and toward the whitewashed barns beyond it. Odors of overturned earth came from the fields. Reuben must be readying them for planting, using what time he had between storms.

Stopping the buggy, Daniel jumped out and walked to the biggest barn where the animals were stabled on the floor above the milking parlor. Through the uneven floorboards, he could hear the cows mooing. The bishop’s buggy team nickered as he walked past. Several mules looked over the stall doors, their brown eyes curious if he’d brought treats. He patted each one’s neck, knowing they’d had a long day in the fields spreading fertilizer.

He didn’t slow as he went down the well-worn steps to the lower floor. The cows stood in stanchions, and the rhythm of the milking machine run by a diesel generator in the small, attached lean-to matched his footsteps.

Reuben, a tall man who was muscular despite his years, stood up from between a pair of black-and-white cows. He held a milk can in each hand. The bishop’s thick gray beard was woven with a piece of hay, but Daniel didn’t mention it as he greeted the older man.

“You’re here late,” Reuben said in his deep voice.

“I’d like to get your advice.”

The bishop nodded. “I need to put this milk in the dairy tank.” He motioned for Daniel to follow him through a doorway.

“Let me take one.”

“Danki, but they’re balanced like this.” He hefted the milk cans with the strength of a man half his age.

Reuben had been chosen by the lot to be their bishop before Daniel was born. His districts were fortunate to have his gentle, but stern wisdom as well as his dedication to his responsibilities as their bishop. It wasn’t an easy life for a man with a family to support, because those selected by the lot to serve weren’t paid.

When Reuben went to the stainless steel tank where the milk was kept cold by the diesel engine, Daniel opened the top and checked that the filter was in place. He stepped back so Reuben could pour the milk in. As soon as both cans were empty, Reuben lifted out the filter and closed the top. He set the filter in a deep soapstone sink to clean later.

Wiping his hands on a ragged towel, Reuben said, “I hear you’ve got a new job. Fixing the Hunter’s Mill Creek Bridge.”

“Word gets around fast.” He chuckled.

“The Amish grapevine is efficient.”

Daniel had to smile. For people who didn’t use telephones and computers at home, news still managed to spread through the district. He wondered how long it would take for his neighbors to learn about Shelby. News of a kind being left on the Lambrights’ front porch was sure to be repeated with the speed of lightning.

“I went out to the bridge today,” Daniel said. “No work can be done until some bees are removed.”

“Bees?” The bishop leaned against the stainless steel tank. “Doesn’t Hannah Lambright keep bees? The bridge is close to her house, ain’t so? Maybe she’ll be willing to help.”

“I’ve already spoken with her. She’ll take care of the bees if I help her with a few things.”

“Sounds like an excellent solution.” Reuben folded his arms over the ends of his gray beard. He shifted and plucked out the piece of hay. Tossing it aside, he went on, “But from your face, Daniel, and the fact you want to talk with me, I’d guess there’s more to the story.”

“A lot.” In terse detail, Daniel outlined how he’d found the kind after she escaped from the basket. He told the bishop about the note from Hannah’s daed. “Hannah will take care of Shelby, of course, until her daed can be found.”

“Hannah already carries a heavy load of responsibilities with her great-grandmother. Some days, the old woman seems to lose her way, and Hannah must keep a very close watch on her.”

“I offered to help with Shelby.”

The bishop nodded. “A gut neighbor helps when the load becomes onerous.”

“And I also told Hannah I’d come to ask you about whether we should contact the police to get help in finding her daed. If you’re all right with her talking to the police, she agreed that she will.”

Reuben didn’t say anything for several minutes, and Daniel knew the bishop was pondering the problem and its ramifications. It was too big and important a decision to make without considering everything that could happen as a result.

Daniel wished his thoughts could focus on finding Hannah’s missing daed. Instead, his mind kept returning to the woman herself. Not just her beauty, though he’d been beguiled by it. No, he couldn’t keep from thinking how gentle and solicitous she was of the kind and her great-grandmother.

Some had whispered years ago Hannah was too self-centered, like her daed who hadn’t spared a thought for his daughter when he jumped the fence and joined the Englisch world. Daniel had never seen signs of Hannah being selfish when they were walking out. In fact, it’d been the opposite, because he found she cared too much about him. He hadn’t wanted her to get serious about him.

Getting married then, he’d believed, would have made a jumble of his plans to open a construction business. That spring, he’d hoped to submit the paperwork within a few weeks, and he thought being distracted by pretty Hannah might be a problem. In retrospect, it’d been the worst decision he could have made.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt Hannah. He’d thought she’d turn her attention to someone who could love her as she deserved to be loved. But he’d miscalculated. Instead of flirting with other young men, she’d stopped attending gatherings, sending word she needed to take care of her great-grandmother. At the time, he’d considered it an excuse, but now wondered if she’d been honest.

But whether she’d been or not, he knew one thing for sure. He’d hurt her, and he’d never forgiven himself. Nor had he asked for her forgiveness as he should have. Days had passed becoming weeks, then months and years, and his opportunity had passed.

“I thought we’d seen the last of Isaac Lambright,” Reuben said quietly as if he were talking to himself.

“That’s Hannah’s daed?”

The bishop nodded. “Isaac was the last one I guessed would go into the Englisch world. He was a gut man, a devout man who prized his neighbors and his plain life. But when his wife sickened, he changed. He began drinking away his pain. After Saloma died, he refused to attend the funeral and he left within days.”

“Without Hannah.” He didn’t make it a question. “But Isaac has come to Paradise Springs and left another daughter behind.”

“So it would seem.” The bishop sighed. “I see no choice in the matter. The Englisch authorities must be notified. Abandoning a kind is not only an abomination, but a crime. Has the kind said anything to help?”

“Shelby makes sounds she seems to think are words, because she looks at you as if you should know what she’s saying. It’s babbling.”

He nodded. “That was a foolish question. A kind without Down syndrome uses only a few words at her age. An old grossdawdi at my age forgets such things.” His grin came and went swiftly. “But that doesn’t change anything as far as going to the police.” Again he paused, weighing his next words. “Waiting until tomorrow to contact them shouldn’t be a problem. I’d like to take tonight to pray for God’s guidance.”

“Hannah may be hesitant about talking to the cops because she doesn’t want to get her daed into trouble.”

Reuben put his hand on Daniel’s arm. “We must assume Isaac is already in trouble. I can’t imagine any other reason for a daed to leave another one of his daughters as he has.” He sighed. “We’d hoped when Isaac was put under the bann that he’d see the errors of his ways. He told me after Saloma’s death he’d never come back, not even for Hannah. Now he’s done the same thing with another daughter.”

“If Shelby is his daughter and not someone’s idea of a cruel prank.”

“And that, Daniel, is why I’ll be talking with the police tomorrow morning. They’ll know be the best way to find out what’s true and what isn’t.”

“What will happen if Shelby isn’t Hannah’s sister?”

The bishop clasped Daniel’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Let’s not seek. The future is in God’s hands, so let’s let Him lead us where we need to go.”

Daniel nodded, bowing his head when the bishop asked him to join him in prayer. He wished a small part of his heart didn’t rebel at the idea of handing over the problem to God. That part longed to do something now. Something he—Daniel himself—could do to make a difference and help Hannah.

After all, he owed her that much.

Didn’t he?